Don’t Get Caught With Tattered Underwear, Week 29 in the Time of Transition

I was doing my laundry last week. While hanging my underwear on the hand dryer, I noticed the rips that must have happened over time, the time spent quietly during the pandemic. Everything was so comfortable, so I never stopped to examine them. And comfort has been key. Though comfort still matters, I’ll take my underwear without rips.

While I was choosing my new briefs, which I was thrilled to find on sale, I was thinking of the last time tattered undies played a role in my life. It was 25 years ago. I was walking to work, crossing the street when a cab turned the corner without looking. He hit me and lifted me onto his bumper until he stopped suddenly, and I slid down onto the cold street.

An ambulance came and checked on me. I didn’t know I was in shock, but I wouldn’t let them take me to the hospital. I insisted I’d go to my doctor’s office. I went, but only after I returned home to call work. This was before everyone had cell phones. After I made that…